


Late, Again

by guineapiggie



Series: written for the Jyn Appreciation Squad [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, ish, it's very vaguely retro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: God, she’s so late. Twenty minutes, now.It’s so stupid, too – it wouldn’t be so bad if it was the first time, probably. But this makes her look like she doesn’t care, and she supposes he thinks she meant for that to happen. It must look like that to him, like she wants him to think she doesn’t really care, like she has bigger fish to fry.Shehasbigger fish to fry, in a way – the bills piling up on her table in the kitchen, and the blinking light of the answering machine with all those damn messages from her father that she never listens to and never throws out. The ten looming deadlines for assignment she hasn’t written yet, the piles of overdue library books on her desk, the heaps of laundry and the leaking tap in the bathroom.These are, she supposes,bigger fish.





	Late, Again

She is late. _Of bloody course_ she’s late. What else could she be, what else has she ever been, really?

It’s cold, her breath fogging in the dark night air, the ground underneath her feet slippery with ice. She might slip, in these damn shoes, she thinks, not without a trace of bitter amusement. Wouldn’t that be fitting, if she just slipped and fell flat on her face in the middle of the street; wouldn’t that just be freaking _dandy._

God, she’s _so_ late. Twenty minutes, now.

The cinema is another few blocks away, two or three – it’ll be past ten by the time she gets there, at least, and for some reason the idea makes her particularly mad. The church bell chiming ten, loudly, announcing the fact that once again Jyn Erso is too late, _again._

It’s so stupid, too – it wouldn’t be so bad if it was the first time, probably. She was disappointed the first time, embarrassed to no end. It makes her look like she doesn’t care, and she supposes he thinks she meant for that to happen. It must look like that to him, like she wants him to think she doesn’t really care, like she has bigger fish to fry.

She _has_ bigger fish to fry, in a way – the bills piling up on her table in the kitchen, and the blinking light of the answering machine with all those damn messages from her father that she never listens to and never throws out. Just changes out the tape, and stores them in a box on top of the wardrobe. The ten looming deadlines for assignment she hasn’t written yet, the piles of overdue library books on her desk, the heaps of laundry and the leaking tap in the bathroom.

These are, she supposes, _bigger fish_.

Still, she doesn’t want him to think that. She doesn’t want him to think she doesn’t care, because she _does –_ she cares so, so much. Too much.

He’s just some guy after all, some guy she met at some party and had one of those weirdly deep, meaningless drunk party conversations with, wedged into a shadowy corner of Shara’s tiny corridor, probably looking like they’d retreated there so he could sneak a hand up her skirt or something. Somehow, she doesn’t think he did.

They met again at the library a bunch of times, and she’s not sure how of that was coincidence, in the end, yet somehow she finds herself not caring. He has a soft voice and sometimes, she manages to say something that makes his earnest, composed manner slip and allow for a smile to slip through, and that thrills her. She doesn’t know why. It should worry her, the fact he so clearly has secrets; she should continue to go out with boys whose smiles come easy, without thinking.

Then again, she hasn’t necessarily had the best of experiences with _that_ kind either, so she supposes it doesn’t really matter.

So when he first asked her if she had time to go see a band play in town with Shara and Kes, she said yes, even though she had an exam half a week away and was less than sure she was going to pass, leave alone do well, and she needed that grade. Then, predictably, a few hours before, she’d panicked. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the exam or because of him, and she chose not to think about it, not when she telephoned Shara that she couldn’t make it, and not after.

They’d set this up a week later – just a movie, not one Jyn was keen on seeing really, but she felt bad for standing him up the last time, and even though she was bizarrely nervous, she did want to see him. Coax that little smile out of him again.

And now, of course, predictably – _no, Erso, you can’t go yet; no, you will serve that table until they leave, what’s the matter with you, girl, you know I gave you your wage in advance last month, remember, what, do you have somewhere to be?_

That last one served with a faint grin that somehow managed to be suggestive and mocking at once.

Damn it, she’d been so sure she could make that damn movie, easily – she had forty or so minutes to spare, in fact. On paper. But no, of course, because the universe doesn’t want her to have nice things –

She should blame herself, really. She should have learned that lesson long ago.

She’s out of breath, the cold air stinging painfully in her lungs, and her scarf has come loose and she’s bloody cold. She should have packed gloves.

The clock chimes, and she wonders if there’s any point in keeping going. Who the hell would even wait that long, and for a girl that’s already stood them up once? More than once, probably, now that she thinks of it. Not that those were _dates,_ but still – she’s always late, always in a hurry, always behind…

There’s a lump in her throat now.

Surely he must have already left. He’s smart, he must have realised by now that she really isn’t worth the wait. Too much of a mess, not worth his time.

(Again.)

She slows, drags her feet around the corner. She just wants to go to bed, really, if nothing will go her way anyways –

Someone is leaning against the wall near the entrance, underneath the neon signs, wrapped in a ridiculously big parka.

She feels a tentative smile tug at her lips for a moment, and hurries her steps.

“I’m – I’m so sorry, I –“

Jesus, her voice sounds horrible, all choked-up and breathless. How embarrassing.

“Hi Jyn,” he says calmly, stepping towards her, and she jams her cold hands into her pockets, out of some kind of reflex.

“My boss wouldn’t let me leave,” she presses on in a slightly improved voice. “I’m so sorry, I came as soon as I –“

“Jyn,” he says, quietly, “why don’t you just –“

“No, I get it,” she cuts him off, shaking her head. “I get it. You must think I don’t… I’m sorry, it’s just that – it’s nothing to do with you, I’m just a fucking mess, okay, I’m late for everything, ask anyone, I… sorry you had to wait. Again,” she adds softly, wincing a little. “If you’re done with this, I –“

“Just – just calm down, okay,” he says, smiling a little, to her surprise and slight confusion. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s – it’s rude. I’m sorry.”

“It’s _fine,”_ he repeats gently. “We, uh, we probably missed the start of the movie, though.”

She glances up at him, allowing herself to return his fleeting smile for a moment. “Yeah, well… we could just grab a drink or something instead, maybe?”

His grin widens, just a smidge, before he hides it away again. Then he reaches out very hesitantly to tuck her scarf back into place, before quickly withdrawing his hand like he’s burned himself. A blush is creeping up his neck, just faint enough she can pretend she doesn’t see it in the neon light.

“Yeah. Let’s get you somewhere warmer,” he mutters, hands in his pockets now, mirroring her without meeting her eyes. _Flustered,_ bizarrely, because of _her._

Something inside her unclenches at the sight. Maybe, she thinks, there is still a chance for this to turn out okay.

(More than okay, even. She must be entitled to _some_ luck every now and then, for Heaven’s sake. She hopes it’s this time. She really does.)


End file.
